


you don't know how lucky you are

by syrenhug



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Homophobia, nico centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 04:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2455202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syrenhug/pseuds/syrenhug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His body is young, but, sometimes he feels like his bones are creaking, swinging things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you don't know how lucky you are

The night after he finds out Bianca has died he dreams of her. He dreams of her enveloping him into her warmth. He dreams of her eyes, so much like his own.

"It's okay." She says, and it's shattering in its sincerity. "No matter what, you are still you."

Nico doesn't understand what it means. But, he carries it within him and doesn't let it go.

* * *

He can remember the exact moment he felt _something_ for Percy. He'd just spoken to his sister's ghost and he was still so angry, so cold, because the older boy had promised- promised him that his future wouldn't become blighted by darkness, but failed.

Even though the hurt was there, the feeling fogged over. He looked at the waves of Percy's eyes and he just-

He sank.

And, after, he always wonders if he will truly ever come up for air again.

* * *

Once, on one of his beginning failed attempts at Shadow Travel he lands in an alleyway. It's chilly and his jacket is barely able to shelter him from the breeze, but he walks on. There are no signs of monsters. Just loudly chattering girls from not-to-far away. The accents tell him that he is most definitely not in the United States. England, maybe.

There are vibrations of something and he pauses in front of a terribly lit door. He doesn't open it, but he hears the pulse of music and he stands and listens.

_We have nothing to lose_   
_And we can hold the weight of it_   
_And if we wait for summer_   
_It will be better than this_

It's not loud or angry or overwhelming. It's lilting, a little insecure, but confident in it's solitude. It's him. Nico closes his eyes.

_You know it's not that bad_   
_And I can see you in the mornin'_   
_Combing your black hair_

He dwells on the life, the father, the people he would have had if his life was not what it was. He drinks coffee. Reads poetry. Covets music in his little house on a plain, boring lane. He likes a boy with green eyes that sits in front of him in class and never looks back. There are no monsters under his bed, spirits haunting his mind. The weight of the world is just a metaphor.

He has been. He will be. He _is_.

_Bury my heart_   
_In your tomb_   
_Oh, I'll bury my heart_   
_In your tomb_

The song ends and he drifts away, entirely too exhausted to Shadow Travel again. The thrum of the guitar seeps into him until he floats.

"We will bury our losses together." He rasps and, then, nods. He understands.

* * *

There are a lot of things that cause him pain. One of the most vivid is seeing Percy's skin burning, festering and falling in love right there. Right next to the River Styx, at Zeus knows what time of day. It shouldn't hurt. It shouldn't have to be upsetting. But it is.

Then, after the war is over and the prizes gifted, he walks far away from the realization that the he boy he loves, is full of someone else.

* * *

His body is young, but, sometimes he feels like his bones are creaking, swinging things.

The dead pulls him toward the pits of descent. The ghost of the living pushes him to be something that exists. It's a constant motion, a relentless static in the car wrecks of his being.

Truthfully, Nico has a hard time believing he's real. His soul wanders - alone on the side, waiting for the day when he can settle.

* * *

It's hard not to scream. It's hard not to bury it into the earth, engrave it into their separate pieces -

_I would tear it all out for you. I've gone mad for you. I've gone mad for everyone and you just don't see how much I could lose, how much I've already lost. Why don't you see me?_

Why won't you see?

* * *

There are times when Nico really believes that loving someone is a sickness - a terminal illness that slowly creeps into your insides.

Because he watches Percy. He watches him being awkwardly heroic and achingly loyal. He watches him love his mom, extend care to his father even though Poseidon will never understand what it's like for them; the demi-gods, the outcasts. The others. He watches the older boy's love for Annabeth - something pure and honest and _right_.

He watches, and doesn't know why it matters. But he continues.

* * *

When captured, sealed in the bronze jar, he is on the precipice of going mad, of allowing it all to slip away. But he sees his friends in the forms of angels. He feels their fingers brushing his hair telling him _you are alive._

Hazel's smile. Annabeth's seemingly endless string of knowledge. Messy dark hair and strong arms not carrying, but helping him get back up on his feet.

He holds unto the vision of his Stygian iron sword. The sword that tells his story of being apart from everyone else. Separate. And he understands, finally, that he will never ask for anything, never want anything back. He understands that none of it is his fault.

* * *

Jason tells him that everybody would be behind him just the same as before and Nico's body _alights_ with it all.

All of it is insanity. The act of caring for someone and not telling them is madness and blood dripping from the tips of your fingers, but what would be worse is for Percy to know. For him to try for Nico because he knows it's what he wants. For everyone to give him side-long glances and supposedly supportive words. He doesn't want that.

He wants Percy to hold his hand because the only place he feels like his fingers belong are intertwined in his own. To kiss him and not taste stormy eyes and blonde hair on his tongue. He wants to be loved because there's no either choice, not because there was one.

No pity. No. He just wants everyone to be okay. If that means quiet, then he will personally sew his mouth shut.

_"It's okay. No matter what, you are still you."_

He understands this too.

* * *

Softly, Nico transfers some of his inner poison to the shadows in hopes that it will see him through. The ocean moves on behind him and that is enough.


End file.
